Insurrection

**The Monkee** · 19-07-2005 05:08

Soory about the lack of updates guy's, I've been working 2 jobs and that doesn't leave alot of energy left for writing.

I have however played the game to a satisfactory conclusion. Right now I'm gonna try and crank out some more history book styled posts and abandon the whole story thing due to time constraints.

Next update will be coming...someday

**cthulhu** · 19-07-2005 10:08

Originally Posted by The Monkee

Right now I'm gonna try and crank out some more history book styled posts and abandon the whole story thing due to time constraints.

No!

You write history book style well, but I personally like novella style better. I'd rather see you update infrequently than haste through this very promising story.

**King Of Nines** · 26-07-2005 17:54

Originally Posted by The Monkee

Soory about the lack of updates guy's, I've been working 2 jobs and that doesn't leave alot of energy left for writing.

I have however played the game to a satisfactory conclusion. Right now I'm gonna try and crank out some more history book styled posts and abandon the whole story thing due to time constraints.

Next update will be coming...someday

I admire all you guys who do AAR's. I attempted one a long time ago for EU2, but I abandoned it after a few posts because it was too time-consuming (and I'm lazy).

**Kurt_Steiner** · 26-07-2005 18:41

Simply amazing! Good luck, m8!

**The Monkee** · 12-08-2005 23:20

July 13th 1941
Somewhere west of Malta

Guy Lapointe savored the smell of the sea air. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Yet as he turned his head from the sky to the deck of the Bearn he wished the scene would somehow bring things into a better light. Currently the Bearn’s air group consisted of 11 LN .401 dive bombers which could double as fighters if need be. Though more planes were being marshaled on the mainland, Guy was worried about how they would fair in combat, the LN .401 was definitely not the best aircraft, but it was the only modern one Vichy France had.
So far he and his squadron had served as scouts for the majority of the fleet. After driving the Regia Marina off at the Battle of the Tyrrhenian sea. The fleet had pursued their foes south. Glancing upwards Guy quickly discerned the silhouette of one of his planes. He watched with interest as it circled the Bearn and came in for a successful landing. To his surprise the pilot nearly vaulted himself out of the seat. “I’ve found the Italian Fleet! They’re making full speed for Taranto!” Guy wasted no time. Almost immediately he rushed up to the bridge along with the sweat drenched aviator.
“At our current speed we will not be able to meet them in battle.” Grand Admiral Darlan said through the radio. “It would be impossible, Our battleships and perhaps a few of our cruisers could engage them but the majority of our destroyers and the Bearn would be unable to keep up. This would leave us badly outnumbered and without sufficient covering ships. Thus Monsieur Lapointe, you have full authorization to launch an air strike on the Italian navy. Bon Chance!” Glancing over his shoulder Guy grinned like a wild jackal at Admiral Decoux, temporary captain of the Bearn. Decoux simply spoke into the conn. “All hands man your battle stations!”
Guy rushed down to the carrier deck to meet the rag tag elements of his squadron. Mechanics, fuel lines and trolleys full of bombs and ammunition criss-crossed the deck. Guy spoke as soon as he had the attention of every man in the small huddle of pilots. “Allright, we have 4 planes scheduled for the next patrol. We’re going to use those for the attack. I’ll be leading the mission. I will not however assign men to the remaining 3 planes. Keep in mind that we’re going up against a sizable portion of the Italian fleet, that’s a lot of AA fire. We might not all make it back home.”
A stunned silence gripped the huddle. Finally, Henri Leblanc broke the silence “I’ll go”
That was quickly followed by similar comments from both Etienne and Francois.
Guy grinned and concluded the briefing. “Alright, I want another flight ready incase we manage to cripple any ships. Though with our tiny bombs I highly doubt we’ll sink any right off the bat. Now when we approach we’ll ignore the destroyers, they’re useless. Go for the Cruisers on the outside of the formation. Perhaps we’ll be able to knock one out. Alright? Let’s go!”
With that being said Guy turned around and ran over to his plane. The LN 401 was bulky to say the least, and definitely not maneuverable. Adeptly, Guy climbed the ladder and hurled himself into the cockpit. He began to strap himself in, remembering to do up the buckles holding the parachute beneath him to his body. Securely fastened to his seat, Guy donned the remainder of his flying gear, but not before kissing the small figure of the Virgin Mary for luck.
Hail Mary full of grace...With that thought in mind Guy gunned his throttle as his plane assisted by the Bearn’s catapult flew towards the end of the narrow deck. The next thing he knew he was flying up and away from the carrier deck. A glance over his shoulder saw Henri preparing to launch. Guy slowly brought his plane around waiting for the remainder of his flight.
It didn’t take long for the remaining 4 pilots to form up. Flying in a rather loose diamond formation Guy turned around and entered in on a course to intercept the Italian fleet.

***

Guy couldn’t believe the amount of flak the Italian fleet was pulling up. As he rolled into an 80% dive Guy set up for a run on an outlying Italian cruiser. The air was thick with flak. Somehow he was reminded of Leonidas at Thermopylae ...then we shall fight in the shade... Guy smirked as he deployed the dive brakes. The clumsy dive bomber jerked and began to slow down. Not quite fast enough for Guy though, reaching down he cranked the landing gear down.
Guy knew that this was a dangerous maneuver, he had heard about it from an American during one of his trips to that country. He had gone “over there” only twice before the war ended. Meeting a fellow dive-bomber pilot was pure dumb luck, dumb luck that was going to make the Italians pay. Given the extra time, Guy repositioned his bomber and released his bomb while slowly exhaling.
As the bomb began its treacherous descent Guy hauled back on the stick and began to pull up. With his free hand he gunned the throttle and cranked the landing gear up. How he hoped that the engine wouldn’t stop, as it had a tendency to do when performing this maneuver. Fortunately, it roared to life and he began to accelerate. Not fast enough though. The Italians let him have it with every single gun in their arsenal. His plane began to shake violently as Guy tried in vain to dodge some of their fire. Suddenly, it all stopped and the world turned into an orgy of flame. His cruiser simply vanished into a pillar of flame. Debris was flying everywhere, it was quite a sight.
That bought Guy a couple of seconds which he used to the best of his ability. As his shattered plane limped away from the Italian fleet the Italians realized too late that their quarry was escaping. Guy somehow continued to fly as his plane was pelted with every single AA weapon in the Italian fleet. As his plane cleared the Italian screens, his engine began to belch black smoke.
Letting out a sigh of frustration Guy checked the straps on his parachute harness and worked furiously on the hinges of his canopy. After applying some serious elbow grease Guy finally pried it open. As he unbuckled himself from the doomed plane Guy grabbed his good luck charm Bon chance mon amour he thought as he jumped and pulled the string on his parachute.

***

Guy thanked God that he wasn’t flying in the North Atlantic like his British comrades. The Mediterranean was definitely cold enough. He had been floating for over 4 hours he had seen his flight fly overhead, hopefully they had reported his position to the main fleet. Then on the horizon he saw a searchlight...Guy fevrently hoped that this was going to work and pulled out his flare gun. Pointing it in vain at the sky he pulled the trigger.
To his joy the flare sizzled to life and shot up into the air. Guy laughed as the flare lit up the night sky and the ship ahead of him began to head towards him. Guy desperately hoped that this one was French or even British. What with the beating the Italians had taken at the hands of the British Guy sincerely doubted that he would fall into enemy hands.

***

Onboard the French Destroyer Liberté

“Congratulations Captain Lapointe for single handedly sinking an Italian cruiser!” The destroyer captain seemed elated. “I’m just glad we found you before some wop sub found us! The rest of the fleet is heading up to Corsica, it seems the Italians are trying to invade. We’ll meet up with the main fleet in a couple of days. Until then feel free to make yourself comfortable. You can head down to the mess for some dry clothes and some food.” That being said Guy saluted and headed down towards the mess. The Liberté was one of the oldest ships in the navy. If his memory served him right she had been commissioned during the Great War. The stench made it obvious that the ship had never been cleaned. The same could also be said for the crew especially the captain who stank of sweat and tobacco.
Finally, an exhausted, drenched, Guy slopped into the destroyers mess where he was greeted by a grease covered chef who pressed a pair of coveralls into his hands and regaled him with news from the fleet
Two hours later freshly clothed and fed he glanced out at the tranquil Mediterranean wondering where his Stephanie was, whether she was safe, what she was doing. In all reality he had no way of knowing. All he could do was his job and hope to build a better world....

A LN 401 off the Bearn

**Atruejedi** · 12-08-2005 23:38

An update, horray!

**HJ Tulp** · 13-08-2005 00:11

This is very interesting

**The Monkee** · 13-08-2005 00:27

July 11th 1941
25 kilometers east of Paris

Major General Charles Francois took cover behind a well. His entire world transformed into a churning maelstrom of bullets and flying shards of brick and mortar. The battle was not going well. His division was stretched to the breaking point. Yet the fate of the entire salient depeneded on this battle. Now his men were under attack from double their number. His artillery was nowhere to be found and so the Germans maintained a clear advantage pelting his positions with mortar and field artillery fire.
This being the case his troops had been forced back by superior German forces. Right into his makeshift headquarters. A mortar shell had ended all hopes of a coherent pullback. Now Charles and whatever remained of his staff were fighting for there very lives. He realized that he would have to move quickly if he was going to have a chance to survive. The well he had taken cover behind was disintegrating under the German machinegun fire. In vain Charles peered around the side for some more cover. A drainage ditch 10 meters infront of him attracted his attention.
Pure will pulled his body up and over the 10 meter gap. Bullets sent up showers of earth all around him. Then with a start he fell into the ditch and found himself up to his shoulders in muddy water. Now out of the machine gun's field of fire Guy began figuring out a way to strike back. A few meters away he saw the corpse of one of his soldiers. Wading towards it he stripped the body of its weapons and ammuntion. Glancing into the body's lifeless eyes Charles muttered a brief catholic benidiction and closed the eyes.
Now armed with a rifle and around 80 rounds of ammuntion Charles checked the magazine to ensure that it was full. The poor soldier hadn't even gotten a shot off. Charles slowly crawled up the opposite edge of the ditch and glanced around. With a smirk he noted that his staff was doing an admirable job of pinning down the German troops. Meanwhile the German machine gunners were distracted and had no idea he was even taking aim.
His first shot was off just a little bit, striking the loader instead of the gunner. Years of practice allowed him to reload the MAS 36 nearly instantaneously and crank off another shot, this one killing the gunner. What he did not see was the German soldier to his right whose flying tackle sent Charles flying into the insepid water of the ditch. Weapons became useless as the two men grappled in the tight embrace of the drainage ditch. It was now a battle of wills. Swinging his leg around Charles send the German off balance. His hands went for the soldiers throat as he plunged the German's head under water. He held it there until it stopped moving.
He did not however miss the other German soldiers heading towards his position. In vain he grabbed the German's MP 40 and opened fire spraying bullets into the grey crowd at the edge of the ditch. Unfortunately, the mud jammed the submachine gun. Reaching up Charles grasped the barrel of a German rifle and dragged it and the soldier attached to it into the ditch. This time Charles freed his pistol and shoved it into the mans face pulling the trigger and not flinching as the German's face exploded into a bloody pulp covering his face.
Emerging from the ditch covered in mud and gore Charles Francois began to take on the German platoon by himself. It seemed that targets were all around him. Emptying his pistol he reached down and plucked a dry MP 40 from the hands of a dead German. Suddenly a dull roar emerged behind him. Mortar shells exploded all around him as men who only a few minutes ago were cowering in fear slammed into the German lines. It was a full blown melee. And the Germans were sending reinforcements.
As Charles emptied the MP 40 at a cluster of German troops he saw the Platoon's heavy machinegunner go down. Shifting his grip to the blazing hot barrel of the sub-machine gun he bent it in two by swinging it at the face of a dazed German soldier knocking the man unconcious. A few more strides brought him up to the dead machine gunner. "MOVE!" he commanded the loader as he pried the Hotchkiss machinegun from the dead mans hands.
German mortar shells exploded all around him as he dove into a nearby crater and set up the machinegun. The shell shocked loader could barely feed the ammuntion into the gun as Charles began to mow down the oncoming German troops.
"H-H-How long can we keep this up sir?" The loader managed to spit out between bursts. Charles' face did not move as he replied "As long as we have to."

***

July 12th 1941
25 kilometers east of Paris

British troops advance on German positions
Malcolm Forbes' grin nearly tore his face in two. Under the combined assault of Armor and Infantry the German infantry had fallen apart. He admired those Frenchmen. Somehow between the Armistice and now they had learned to fight. From what he had seen they were pretty beat up. Somehow he knew that most of the fighting was going to fall on British forces. Yet it was better to have some allies than none. Then his patrol came upon the most devastated battlefield to date.
Before the war it would have been a prosperous farm. Now it was littered with craters, smoke, and bodies. Up ahead he could see the smoking remains of a house, barn and even a silo. "Move out search for survivors!"
Methodically, his troops and him poked and prodded their way through the bodies. Having made his way through a number of German corpses he came across a pair of Frenchmen lying around a machinegun. The loader was dead, a bullet to the head had simply blown his brains out. The gunner himself though looked different. He had been shot numerous times and yet... Malcolm turned the man over and saw the faintest intake of breath. Malcolm sucked in as much air as he could and shouted...

"MEDIC!"